


Fame and Fortune Could Never Compete

by plinys



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 15:14:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1749143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma and Skye are costars on an up-and-coming tv show who work a press circuit together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fame and Fortune Could Never Compete

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself I wasn't going to write this. Then I said it was going to be a drabble. And 2k+ later look where we are.
> 
> This is based off [this](http://pizza-is-my-buziness.tumblr.com/post/87936436743/guys-you-know-now-i-feel-like-there-needs-to-be) super lovely au idea!

The first interview she ever does for the show probably ought to go down in the record books as the worst interview in the history of interviews.

And according to Fitz it would if the people at the Guinness Book of World Records would ever return any of his phone calls. She thanks the powers above every day that they never did call him back, but that doesn’t help her in avoiding the shame of that interview, not when Fitz insists on playing it proudly every time a mention of press circuits and tv spots.

“Every tv show has terrible filler episodes,” the woman on the screen snaps, “you can’t blame-” though they don’t hear the end of it because Jemma has somehow manages to take claim of the television remote and turn it off before they can hear the end of her rant against the poor interviewer.

“Can I please just be taken off all press things for the rest of my life,” she practically pleads with the show runners afterwards, kicking Fitz under the table when he remarks that at least doing an interview with her had been entertaining.

\---

The set where they’re going to be doing the interview is right in front of her and each glance at the faux-leather chair she will be sitting in moments later makes her stomach turn.

Apparently nobody had listened when she insisted that she was awful at these interviews.

“I’m not good with cameras,” Jemma insists, smoothing down her dress for the third or fourth time, even though there are no wrinkles to be seen. When she notices her costars skeptical look she sighs, “not like that. I’m good with cameras when I’m not being _me_. It’s interviews that I’m absolute rubbish at.”

“You’ll do fine,” Skye reassures her, “trust me.”

“I want to, I really do. I just know we’re going to get up there and the interviewer is going to ask me a question and I’ll just start rambling or ranting,” honestly at this point Jemma wasn’t sure which will be worst, “it’s going to be awful.”

As her hands move to smooth down her dress once more she is at least aware enough this time to stop it, instead her hands stay stalled in the air awkwardly. That is until a moment later Skye reaches out and grabs her hands squeezing them between her own. Jemma has a feeling the other girl means it to be relaxing, but the way her heart pounds against her chest is anything but relaxing.

“Let me do the talking, okay,” Skye squeezes her hands once more, “you just sit there and look pretty.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

\---

“Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.”

“You’ve said that three times,” she points out.

“It needs to be said three times, for _emphasis_ ,” Fitz explains, “Jemma, this is your second best interview ever.”

Against her better judgment she sighs before asking, “What’s my best interview?”

Fitz snickers a bit before adopting a high pitched voice which she supposes is meant to be a mockery of her own, complete with a semi-decent British accent, “you have a lovely head don’t you?”

\---

The show runners must have realized that something finally worked, because soon enough Jemma finds that the next four interviews she’s scheduled for are all ones where she’ll be side by side with Skye.

“I’m so excited,” Skye says, pressing a cup of coffee into Jemma’s hands once they get their schedules, “Skye and Jemma take on the world! It’ll be like an adventure! Doesn’t that sound great?”

She finds herself speaking honestly when she replies, “It does.”

\---

Jemma’s not entirely sure what happens, but somehow she goes from ranting at an interviewer one month ago, to actually answering questions and enjoying herself in the interviews.

There’s no way anybody can deny the obvious factor into this change, not when Skye has been sitting beside her for all of the interviews.

“You two have remarkable chemistry,” one interviewer points out, “did that come naturally between you two or was it something that took time?”

Technically the question is for either of them, but for the first time in a while Jemma actually feels confident enough to answer the question on her own, “we just clicked the second we met,” she admits, “Skye is amazing, the life of the party, she lights up a room when she walks in - how anybody could not be drawn to her blows my mind.”

“And do you feel the same?”

“Of course,” Skye says, nodding her head enthusiastically, “one hundred percent.”

\---

The next time somebody casually remarks on their chemistry Skye beats her to the punch with a bright smile.

“We’re in love,” Skye insists, though her tone belays that it’s meant to be something of a joke. Before pressing her hands together in order to make a pathetic attempt at the hashtag symbol and saying, “hashtag Skimmons.”

Later that night in their hotel room, Skye proudly announces, “We’re trending,” as if this is their greatest accomplishment, even greater than the announcement that they were getting a Season Two.  

For some reason, when she lays awake that night trying to fall asleep she almost feels like it is.

\---

“No no - Jemma tell them about the time with the mop-”

“It was Fitz’s mop, not mine-”

“She screamed so loud I died laughing-”

“I, on the other hand, almost had a _heart attack_!”

“You are the worst best friend ever,” Jemma says shaking her head, before turning to smile at the Late Night talk host who is looking at them with thinly veiled amusement, “you don’t happen to know anybody in the market for a new best friend?”

\---

She doesn’t get nervous before her interviews, but she’ll never admit it out loud, because that might mean that one day Skye will stop grabbing her hands to reassure her that everything’s going to go just fine.

Jemma can’t lose that.

Not when it’s the closest she gets to what she’s only dreamed about.

The next day she flips through Instagram looking at the pictures of them smiling into the camera, the selfies she had insisted on taking, and the pictures fans had snapped of them walking up the scene hand in hand.

She saves the vast majority of them to her phone in a folder labeled _#Skimmons_ and tries to pretend that it’s as a joke.

\---

“We have to push the chairs together, this is unacceptable,” Skye says staring at the two plush leather chairs and the end table that separates them.

“It’s fine,” she insists, “there’s no need for us to redo their entire interior decorating scheme just because we want to sit next to each other.”

“It will only take a minute,” Skye says turning on her with a little pout, “please! I can’t bear to be away from you!”

That’s how they find themselves five minutes later pushing their chairs together and the show’s host stares at them with a slightly bemused expression.

If they end up holding hands for the whole interview, well Jemma can’t be held entirely accountable for how silly she sounds whenever she has to answer any questions.

\---

There’s a reason people say you’re not supposed to fall in love with your costars.

The tales rarely have happy endings.

Jemma can safely admit that she sees herself as neither an Angelina Jolie nor a Brad Pitt, so she knows she’s doomed.

Of course, realizing that she’s doom and doing anything to stop the feelings that bubble up inside her chest each time Skye bumps shoulders with her are completely different stories.

\---

“I’m sick,” Skye croaks into the phone, “probably dying of the plague if Fitz and WebMD are anything to go off of.”

“You should know better than to listen to either of them,” Jemma chides calmly, though the death grip she currently has on her cellphone is far from calm.

“I know, I know,” Skye replies, before falling into a coughing fit that lasts for the better part of a minute.

“I hate to say this,” and she really does, the words physically paining her as they leave her lips, “but if you’re feeling that sick you should probably stay home.”

“You sure,” she asks, almost hopeful.

No she’s not.

Jemma is far from sure, but Skye’s sick, and so for her sake she will just have to go on her own. The thought makes her stomach turn. For a second Jemma feels like Skye won’t be the only one too sick to make the interview, but when she takes a deep breath the feeling passes.

“Absolutely,” Jemma lies, knowing that Skye can probably see right through that, “now go eat some soup and sleep! I’ll swing by after the interview-”

“Which will go perfectly,” Skye finishes for her.

“Which will go perfectly,” Jemma repeats, hoping that maybe saying the words over again will make them true.

It doesn’t.

\---

“Such a shame Skye couldn’t make it today,” the reporter points out the empty chair, not Jemma could have missed it.

“She’s feeling a bit under the weather,” Jemma explains, her hands smoothing out her dress awkwardly, suddenly wishing Skye was next to her so she had something to hold onto and distract herself with.

“I’ll bet,” the reporter says like it’s an innuendo, “and why aren’t you back home taking care of your sick girlfriend?”

“Skye’s perfectly capable of taking care of herself - wait, my what?”

She had been too focused on answering the question that she had missed his last comment, but the report seems to light up with glee as if he’s caught her in a trap.

“You girls have been trying to keep it on the down low and we all understand,” he nods his head at her, “but anybody with eyes can see that you’re obviously together.”

Is that what it looked like?

Is that why nobody seemed bothered with the fact that they insisted on sitting next to each other for all their interviews?

She should say something, say anything to stop the silence that is spreading about, but for some reason she can’t find any words to say - let alone the right ones. Instead she sits there gaping like a fish. Running every moment of the last two months through her head trying to see when she had been so obvious about her feelings and slipped up to the point where apparently the entire world seemed to think they were together.

They weren’t.

They were just friends.

Really good friends.

Best friends.

And okay, maybe Jemma wanted to be more than friends, but she was pretty sure that Skye was straight anyways - the kiss her and Ward’s character had shared on set looked too real for her not to be.

The reporter makes a little coughing noise under her breath and Jemma flushes when she tries to count up how many seconds she must have been sitting there in silence.

“Well,” he asks, prompting her for a response.

But Jemma can’t say anything other than, “I have to go,” and she’s up out of her seat before the camera can even stop rolling.

She locks herself in a bathroom stall until people stop looking for her.

\---

Everybody has seen the interview.

It’s gone viral.

_Viral_ has suddenly become her least favorite word in the dictionary.

\---

The only she calls is her agent, begging the older woman to please fix this, and getting half-assed assurances in reply.

The doesn’t stop people from calling her.

Every time her phone lights up with the selfie she and Skye took at the Toronto interviews, she presses _reject call_ with all of the passion she can manage.

As if that can erase the interview from her mind.

Fitz sends her a text, which she reads with a groan:   _We have a new winner for best Jemma Simmons interview!_

\---

It’s been two days from the dreaded interview when there’s a knock at her apartment door. There are not too many people that have her address; in fact, she could count the number of people on one hand - so Jemma doesn’t hesitate before opening the door. She had falsely assumed that it would be her agent here with some sort of news, but the person standing outside her door is most certainly not her agent.

Especially when she was ninety percent certain that the person if front of her didn’t even have her address.

“Skye, what are you doing here,” Jemma says when the shock has finally passed her.

“I’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” Skye answers, quickly inviting herself in without even waiting for Jemma to offer, “but you weren’t answering your calls, probably on purpose now that I think about it.”

Jemma doesn’t bother to answer that question, but duckers her head when she shuts the door which is probably enough of an answer.

Skye continues on unbothered by her lack of a response, “well, I called Fitz and he knew your address, so here I am. Look Jemma we need to talk.”

_We need to talk_ , what had to be undoubtable the worst sentence in the world, second only to _your dog ran away while you were at summer camp._

“I saw the interview,” Skye prompts.

“Who hasn’t at this point,” Jemma says, “I told you before, I’m bad with cameras. I should have said something - I know that now, but at the time I just couldn’t think. His question came so far out of left field that my mind went completely blank. Skye, I’m so sorry about this.”

She thinks she’s imagining it, but for a second it almost looks like Skye’s face falls, but the look is gone and her usual smile is there albeit a bit dimmer than Jemma remembers. “No, it’s chill. My fault anyways with the whole Skimmons thing. I had thought - but I see now how _completely_ wrong I was.”

“You’re my best friend-”

“Mine too! And I don’t want any of this to get in the way-”

“It won’t! We can just tone back on things, do interviews with the guys or-”

“That would probably be best. You and Fitz have solid chemistry, you could work on that then you don’t have to worry if they accuse you guys of be dating-”

“I wouldn’t date Fitz-”

“Me neither, but at least this way it won’t weird you out-”

“Wait, what?”

They both stare at each other for a moment neither saying a word.

Jemma’s not entirely sure what she just happened, but it feels important, it feels like they’re standing on the edge of a knife.

“I wasn’t weirded out,” Jemma finally breaks the silence, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“You weren’t?”

She shakes her head, “no I was shocked and then worried.”

“You were worried?”

“About what you would think,” Jemma explains, “that you would think I was a freak for-”

“For wanting that,” Skye finishes her sentence, and there’s a smile on her lips when Jemma nods her head once.

“Exactly.”

“Oh Jemma, I would never think that, because - well, because I feel the same way.”

  
  
  



End file.
